


The Deja Vú Affair

by mrua7



Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [59]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fear, Gen, Italy, Seduction, Spies & Secret Agents, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are sent to Italy to investigate the mysterious deaths of several young people by exsanguination, among them was a distant cousin of Alexander Waverly.
Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/340117
Kudos: 6





	The Deja Vú Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spikesgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=spikesgirl).



> Written for Spikesgirl for the Scrapbook Halloween Challenge 2020
> 
> This story cross-references to my other story: The Blood is the Life Affair" A link is at the end of this story.

The prompt:

Though it was a full moon, the heavy growth and large Italian cypress trees did little to allow the light to filter through. It wasn’t until they reached the cobbled walkway leading down to a villa that enabled them to have a better view. 

A light inside lit up a stained glass window offered the only color against the darkness and shadows.

The area was famous for its notable villas, many of which had been built as far back as the 15th century by Roman nobility, cardinals and Popes, and served as status symbols of the aristocracy.

During the war Frascati, a city located in the Lazio region of central Italy, had been heavily bombed because it contained the German General Headquarters for the Mediterranean zone leaving half of its buildings, including many monuments, villas and houses, destroyed.

This particular villa was remotely located outside of Frascati, and somehow survived the bombing, but seemingly little had been done to maintain it over the years, and it had fallen into a state of disrepair.

Napoleon led the way as he and Illya passed through a stone archway beneath the house. They walked slowly and carefully to avoid their footfalls against the stone beneath their feet should they give away their presence; still it was difficult not to have the tap of a soled shoe and heel make a noise now and then because of bits of gravel and detritus beneath them. It would make them freeze in their tracks for a few seconds before continuing on.

The agent had their guns drawn and held at the ready should they run into some of the minions of ‘the Countessa.’

It was rumoured that she was a high ranking member of THRUSH, but there was something else of concern regarding the woman.

It seemed a number of young people had turned up dead in Frascati...their deaths weren’t caused by bullets or drugs, there was no indication of murder per se, yet each of them had their life’s blood drained from them.

There were no wounds or injuries to explain it.

Rumours ran rampant among the locals; referencing the legends of Nosferatu, Giure Grando,Vlad the impaler, and the Blood countess, Elizabeth Bathory.

The person the agents sought, known as the Countessa Mondragone though she had no association with the famous patrician Villa Mondragone occupied by many popes since the late 1500s. It was thought the woman wasn’t even a real Countessa as no one knew her.

The locals however, thought her to be ‘vampiro’...yes, a vampire.

Of course neither Solo or Kuryakin believed that to be true, despite the fact they’d had a number of run-ins with what could only be described as being of a supernatural nature...bodarks or rather, werewolves, ghosts, a reanimated corpse and yes, even vampires. Though the latter had been created by chemical means.

There was no way that Mondragone was a blood sucking vampire in the traditional sense, but being a suspected member of THRUSH, there was probably some diabolical plan afoot, a way of causing inexplicable exsanguination of the victims who’d been found.

The only connections between each of them were that they were eighteen years of age and were from Frascati; none of them were related or associated with each other.

So far there had been mostly female fatalities, but as of late several young men of the same age had been found missing their blood as well.

Among the dead was a young lady named Carmella Vacillante who was a distant cousin of none other than Alexander Waverly.

That fact made Napoleon and Illya’s investigation more of a personal nature…

“This is suspicious, “Solo whispered.”Not one guard or lookout anywhere.”

“If she is a high ranking THRUSH one would think she would be surrounded by her people, “ Illya quietly said. “Perhaps our intel might be wrong.”

They approached a small set of stone steps leading up to a heavy wooden arched door; there was light peeking through as it was ever so slightly ajar.

Kuryakin shook his head, not liking the looks of it but said nothing.

They climbed the stoop and Napoleon gently pushed open the door with his left hand, cringing as the hinges groaned with a long creak.

“Of course it had to do that,” Solo thought to himself.

After stepping inside they surveyed their surroundings; the floor of the bare-walled foyer and hallway leading from it were covered in a tattered moth-eaten burgundy carpet. It looked to be Persian though the patterns in the weave were faded.

They followed the hallway to the source of the light they’d seen from the outside.

It opened to a large chamber and in it was a long table wooden bedecked with several candelabras with lit tapers. The table was surrounded by ornately carved dark chairs with cushions of red velvet.

Behind it was an immense fireplace and above the mantle was an all too familiar ruby encrusted dagger mounted on a plaque engraved with words in Hungarian.

“A vér az élat.“ (The blood is the life). It was a quote from Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula, and the motto of the now defunct Tedescu family of Transylvania.

Standing beside the fireplace was the last person they expected to find as they thought she was dead. 

It was Terézia Tedescu.* 

She was dressed in a flowing skin-tight blood-red gown. Her long auburn hair seemed to blend right into the fabric. and color made her skin look so pale that it appeared translucent.

“Napoleon, Illya...how delightful to see you again after all these years.” Her English was heavily accented, given she was Hungarian.

“Not possible,”Kuryakin blurted out.”You and your family died when your home went up in flames!”

“Obviously I escaped...with the only thing of value to me, our family’s treasured dagger that was handed down through the generations. I am the last of my line.”

Napoleon had said nothing, and just as it had happened in Transylvania at the Tedescu home, he was again entranced by the woman.

She had seduced him and tried draining his blood as she was a vampire...not the kind of legend but one that had been chemically induced by a secret Nazi formula.

Her uncle Moric had discovered it as the family home had once been used as a Nazi laboratory during the war. He contacted the U.N.C.L.E. with his concerns. 

Unbeknownst to Count Tedescu, his wife and brother Moric experimented with the formula on Terézia and her sisters, turning them into vampires. It was all because the wife detested the young women because they were her husband’s daughters by his mistress.

“No Terézia,” Illya pointed his weapon straight at her. “Napoleon will not be your victim again.”

“You think your paltry weapon can stop me!” She hissed, baring her glistening white fangs before she flew over the table at unbelievable speed towards the Russian before he could even fire his gun.

Kuryakin went down hard on the flagstone floor, his gun knocked from his hand, landing ten feet away from him.

She ignored him and went straight for Napoleon who was already in her trance.

“I have waited a long time for you my lover. You and I will revive the Tedescu line as you will father my children. We and they will be vámpírok and we will rule the land.”

Solo stood motionless, unable to speak.

“I will make you mine the true way of the vampir…”she whispered. “First I will drink your blood, and then you will taste mine. We will be forever joined.”

After kissing him on the lips, she bit his lips and blood trickled down his chin. Moving to his throat, she opened her mouth and drove her fangs into his jugular.

Solo moaned as she began to drain the life from him. He felt no pain, only erotic pleasure as the venom from her fangs mingled with his blood.

She suddenly threw her head back, screaming as she struggled desperately to reach her hands behind her.

Kuryakin had retrieved the family dagger from the mantle and drove it into her, piercing her heart with it.

Within moments she collapsed to the floor, as had Napoleon.

“A sword never kills anyone; it is but a tool in the killer's hand,” Illya whispered a quote from Seneca to her. “How appropriate you die by the Tedescu knife.”

As her eyes stared at him, the life faded from them until at last the vampire was dead.

Illya stepped over her body, dismissing the fact that she had once been a human being. He knelt beside Solo and gently slapped his partner’s cheek.

“Wake up Napoleon, it is over. You are safe.”

“Mmmm? Safe? Safe from what?” He put his hand to his lip with his fingers coming back bloody. Then his hand went to his neck were there was more blood. 

Surprisingly there was no pain.

“Illya, what happened?”

“Terézia had you in her spell and tried to drain you of your blood. She planned for you to father a new race of vampires. 

He handed Solo a handkerchief for his neck wound.

“Wow,” Napoleon mumbled as he was helped to his feet.

After searching the villa they discovered a book in which the notes explained the exsanguination of Terézia’s victims. She along with THRUSH had used her blood as a catalyst allowing the victim to be drained of their blood by the mere touch of a hand against their skin, leaving no wound.

“I think it best we burn everything here, that notebook included,”Napoleon said.

Solo was still a bit groggy as he helped Illya scatter the flaming logs from the fireplace around the body of Terézia.

They watched for a moment as her remains went up in flames. Then the table began to burn as did the carpet.

Solo tossed the notebook into the fire and as its pages blackened, the agents made a quick getaway.

They stood clear of the villa as it went up in flames.

“I have a feeling this isn’t the end of the story,” Napoleon said.

“That is what I think as well,”Illya said. “In the meantime, I am hungry. Might we go into the town to get something to eat.”

Napoleon snorted, "Only you would think of food after watching a body burn...all right, but no red meat, please?”

Illya cocked his head, thinking for a moment. “Pollo Arrosto con Arancia ed Uvetta? I believe it is a regional favorite, served with local Frascati wine.”

“Roasted Chicken with Oranges and Currants? Sounds good,”Napoleon said.” That’ll give us some time to figure out how to report this to Mister Waverly.”

Solo cocked his eyebrows, they never fully reported the incident in Hungary involving the Tedescu family, so bringing up Terézia would complicate an already complicated situation…

They’d think of something; they always did.

  
  


* ref to [“The Blood is the Life Affair”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031970)


End file.
